


Man of No Means

by kelex



Category: Brimstone
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezekiel may have forgotten what day it is, but the Devil didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man of No Means

Ezekiel Stone rarely kept track of the days any longer, except to know that seven of them meant a week, and 365 of them meant a year. He vaguely acknowledged the months passing, knew the holidays because of the decorations and such that surrounded him. Now it was the empty spread of days between Independence Day and Halloween, and Zeke had barely more than a vague memory of something important having happened in this time.

He felt fairly good about himself tonight. Another soul had been sent back to hell; another tattoo had burned itself off his skin. He could still feel the tingles in his shoulder where the mark had been, and knew it would be raw for a day or two until the nerves settled back down. 

He hadn't realized that his feet had been carrying him along without thinking, and he was standing in front of what passed for home. The hotel he lived at could barely be called a flophouse, but when one only had thirty six dollars and twenty seven cents to one's name, one did the best one could. He shifted the bag of fast food to his elbow as he dug in one of his coat pockets for the key, barely noticing the gritty surroundings as he finally came up with the keys. The lock was sticky, and he jiggled it unsuccessfully several times before the knob finally turned and the door creaked open.

"Welcome home, Ezekiel," the Devil crowed from the little bed in the corner. "Welcome home."

Zeke seriously thought about closing the door and just walking away.

Lucifer was chuckling to himself at the look of abject disgust on Ezekiel's features. He couldn't deny that he got a sadistic thrill out of just randomly appearing in Ezekiel's life, but the truth of the matter was, beneath the heckling and the irritation, he _always_ had something important to discuss. He wrinkled his nose at the greasy bag in Zeke's hand, the paper almost transparent enough to read the wrapper of two cheeseburgers and fries. "This is dinner?"

Zeke rolled his eyes as he tossed his grubby-looking jacket onto the chair, plopping the bag down on the rickety kitchen table. "Close enough," he sighed. His shoulder ached, the rest of his body hurt from the fight on hard concrete in the alleyway , and he was *not* in the mood for the Devil's mind games tonight.

Lucifer picked up the bag and looked at it with an expression of mingled fascination and disgust. "You don't really expect me to eat that, do you?" It was not at all suitable. In any way.

"Actually, no. I don't. I expect _me_ to eat it. And then I expect to go to bed. _Alone._ " Zeke rattled the paper bag as he pulled out the first cheeseburger. The grease smelled heavenly.

"You know, those things are going to kill you." Lucifer smirked. "Not to mention the fact that you don't need to eat. You're just wasting your money, day after day, on food that you don't need."

Another eye roll. "Let's not go through this again, okay? I'm already dead. I'm hungry. And it's not going to make that much difference unless a rogue sesame seed punctures my eyeballs, and oh, look." He held up the bun. "Seedless." Zeke was tired. He wanted to eat, he wanted to take a hot, relaxing shower, and then get a good night's sleep. Or perhaps just eat and sleep, and shower in the morning.

"You scoff now. You're a man of limited means, Ezekiel. One would think you'd be more... frugal." He leaned forward, as though about to impart something confidential. "You wouldn't believe the number of people who get early tickets because of this," Lucifer's voice was a secretive whisper as he indicated the food. "But don't let it get out."

"You wouldn't believe how much I don't care." Zeke lifted the cheeseburger to his mouth to take a bite, hoping that if he ignored Lucifer and ate, he might just go away.

"Ezekiel..." the Devil started warningly. "I'm serious. That's bad for you." 

Zeke tossed the burger down in disgust. "Okay. Fine. I'll bite. What would you rather I eat instead?" Grouchy because of the interruption, he shoved the burger back in the bag with complete ill-grace and tossed it onto the top shelf of the refrigerator.

Lucifer raked a critical eye over Ezekiel. "Well, we're not going _anywhere_ with you looking like that."

\- = - = - 

When they got out to the street, a clothing vendor was just finishing unpacking his wares, although Zeke would have sworn the street was empty a few moments ago. He supposed it was plausible, an innocent-looking elderly Greek selling cheap suits outside his hotel, but shot the Devil a dark glare as he started browsing. The Devil held up a black suit with a little black bow tie and ebony cufflinks trimmed in gold. "Isn't this gorgeous?"

The vendor ignored them both in favor of counting his starting money, and Zeke wondered if he could even see that the Prince of Darkness was fondling his stock. "Yeah, but a _little_ out of my price range." He flipped his eyes over, and the old man didn't seem at all troubled that he was talking to himself.

"Well, let's look at the price tag." Lucifer flipped it over. "$36.27. You're right, it's a little out of your current budget." He hung the suit back up on the rack. "It's a shame you had to have your three meals today." Zeke gritted his teeth and ignored it. The Devil turned his pants pockets inside out, and started patting his jacket pocket. "I don't think I can help you here." He made a little noise of exclamation, and pulled out a gold American Express card. "And I don't think this gentleman accepts American Express."

A rude snort. "At least not from my imaginary friend." 

Lucifer had been about to needle Ezekiel further about the frivolous depletion of his limited funding, but Zeke's offhand remark had trapped the words in his throat. He wasn't sure how to react to having been called a friend, even in jest, and therefore chose not to react at all.

Zeke kept browsing in silence until he came across another black suit that was the right size, and looked quite serviceable. It didn't have the bow tie or the cufflinks, but he'd survive. "How much?" he asked the old man, searching for a price tag. Lucifer was surprisingly quiet, and Zeke was thankful for the respite.

The wizened gentleman took one _good_ look at Ezekiel, and flipped out the cuff of the suit jacket, making the price tag fall out into plain view. "Says thirty dollars," he pointed out. He looked Zeke up and down again, eyes hesitating at the faded spots at Zeke's knees and the threadbare elbows of his worn jacket. Stared a little more at the ragged hems and the tired-out look of the man standing in front of him. "For you, twenty. Tax included." 

The Devil chuckled softly, and Zeke shot him a look, surprised to hear genuine amusement instead of mockery. Giving Lucifer a crooked smile over his shoulder, Zeke fingered the outline of his wallet. After skipping breakfast, he had $28 and change left over. "You got a deal," he answered back, pulling out the money counting out two tens. He handed the bills over, tucked his wallet back into his pocket, and folded the suit over his arm. "Thanks."

"Thank you," said the Greek, opening a lockbox and tucking the money away for safekeeping as Zeke walked back towards the flophouse he was currently registered at. 

"Ezekiel?" Lucifer was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching Zeke climb stone steps to the building's door. 

"I'm not gonna get dressed in the middle of the street," he pointed out. A quiet pause. "Don't worry. I'll be back." Then he hurried back up the steps, unsure of why he'd offered the small reassurance, and even more unsure of the ghost of a smile he'd gotten in response.

\- = - = - 

A shower was the first order of business. He'd felt gritty and dirty all day, and he ducked quickly into the cramped stall for a dousing of cold water. He scrubbed the coarse soap over his body just enough to raise a lather, dragged the soap through his hair next, then rinsed everything off under the cold stream. 

He was still damp, despite having dried off with the thin towel provided, and he looked at the clothes on the bed. Clean, unwrinkled, and brand new. Then he looked at the pile of grungy clothes in the bathroom hamper, and sighed disgustedly. Everything would be clean in the morning. Until then? Do without. He ran his hand over the fabric, finding the cotton much softer than he'd remembered. He dropped the towel from around his waist and kicked it back into the bathroom as he started getting dressed. 

The Devil leaned quietly against the wall inside Zeke's apartment. Didn't give a single indication that he was there. The white shirt was hanging down to barely cover Zeke's bare posterior, but he didn't get more than a quick glimpse of the shadowed globes before they were covered by black slacks. That was an interesting choice.

Zeke had gotten dressed quickly, tucking his shirttails into the waistband of the slacks and adjusted the fit on his waist. Gave his hips a little twitch to get everything situated loosely, and then picked up the suit jacket and slid it on over his arms. Didn't even bother with the duster as he looked at himself in the mirror, straightening his shirt collar and cuffs. He didn't have a tie, but let it pass, and he had to admit, looking at his reflection in the mirror, that he looked... well, almost human.

He picked up his wallet from the small dresser and dropped it back in his pocket, and ran his fingers through his hair. 

Then jumped out of his skin when he turned around and found Lucifer lounging on the wall beside the door. Dressed nattily in suit and tie, cigar lit and smoking, the Devil looked completely at home in the dingy little apartment. "Don't you _ever_ knock?" Zeke groused, wondering exactly how long the Devil had been lurking and watching him dress.

"No." He smirked, feeling a twinge at the half-hearted nature of Ezekiel's protests. He didn't feel unwelcome for once, and suppressed his usual sarcastic commentary, valuing the truce they seemed to have established. For the moment, at least. "Come on. We're going to be late."

"Late? That would imply a destination." Zeke turned back to the mirror, checking his appearance once more, and catching a glimpse of the Devil's soft expression in the reflection. It was a shock to see the gentle edges to the usually-sharp smirk, and he had to give a smile in return. "Aaah. Let me guess. We're going to wherever the next lost soul is, and this is all an elaborate hoax."

Lucifer tsked playfully. "Ezekiel, Ezekiel, Ezekiel. Have a little faith." Yes, the thought _had_ crossed his mind, but he'd decided against it. 

"Faith. In the Devil. Right." He sighed, and turned around. He never mentioned that he'd trusted in the Devil all along, sure in the knowledge that Lucifer would use it against him. This... didn't seem like that situation at all, and his curiosity got the better of him. "Okay. Let's go."

The Devil led the way out of the dank little room, and waited until they were on the sidewalk to break the companionable silence. "You're not allergic to fish, are you?"

"Y'know, I have to ask. You don't eat, you don't like that I eat, and yet, we're going... I'm assuming, to dinner?" Zeke's confusion was evident in his tone, and he sighed. "I don't get it."

"I do eat," Lucifer protested. "But only when the culinary experience is worth experiencing. I don't *dislike* that you eat, I just think it's useless human nonsense that you're trying to cling to. And yes, we're going to dinner." Irritation. It was a new experience for Lucifer, but one that he always felt around Ezekiel. The human irritated him like few other beings did, merely because Zeke questioned everything. 

"Right." The dry disbelief was heavy in Zeke's tone, but he didn't question further on it. "So what's the occasion?"

"You don't remember?" He shouldn't have forgotten, not after only fifteen years, and Lucifer nearly stopped in his tracks as Zeke asked that. Instead he kept moving, keeping the pace quick. "Doesn't matter. Don't look a gift dinner in the mouth, Ezekiel."

"A gift dinner. Right. Because of that whole limited funds thing. Hey, I'm happy. Dinner is good. Fish? Even better." Zeke wasn't offended, and somehow he thought he should be. Briefly entertained the thought that the Devil might be influencing him and then dismissed it almost as quickly because no way would Lucifer bother to play with his head when there were so many other opportunities out in the world. He was slightly troubled by the fact that the Devil seemed concerned over his forgetfulness, but shook it off as one more part of the day's weirdness.

Lucifer just nodded at that, and sighed inwardly. Couldn't believe they were walking, and decided to twist reality just a little. When they turned the corner, they were just stepping into the fashionable dinner district, and he noticed with a small amount of pride that Ezekiel was looking at him with a slightly awed expression.

"I'm impressed," Ezekiel confirmed, nodding. "Didn't know you could do that." Then, as he saw the Devil's raised eyebrow. "All right. I never really thought about it before." He followed Lucifer into the restaurant, and then paused, looking around. "You said fish. You never mentioned sushi." Zeke snorted. "You had me give up a burger and fries for raw fish and rice. Great." Zeke's voice was laced with gentle sarcasm as he inspected the décor.

The Devil smirked again, and then looked over his shoulder at Zeke. "Consider it an expansion of your horizons." He turned back to the pretty Asian girl at the foyer. "You should have a reservation. Mr. Stone and friend." Surprisingly, the unfamiliar word rolled easily off his tongue, and he realized he liked the taste and feel of it.

"You made reservations? I'm doubly impressed." Zeke raised a questioning eyebrow. Questioning, because he was starting to feel more and more out of his depth, because he couldn't quite figure out what game the Devil was playing. It was only slightly comforting to him that his cop instincts were telling him not to panic. 

The Devil's only answer was a mysterious smile as they followed the girl to their table. She spoke in a quick spate of Japanese, which Zeke had no way of understand, but Lucifer answered her flawlessly, even going so far as to get a laugh out of her before she disappeared. 

Zeke rolled his eyes. "What, making a date for later?"

The Devil chuckled. "No, telling her to water down your sake because you're not used to strong alcohol."

"I'm not!--" Then he noticed Lucifer laughing at him and he sat back in the chair. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up." He lounged back in the chair, nails scraping across the tabletop as they were served. A tall white vase-like container was put on the table in front of them, with a graceful neck and a fat belly, somewhat larger than the similar vessels sitting on other tables near them. Small porcelain cups were also set down before them, eggshell delicate and smaller than the palm of Ezekiel's hand.

Lucifer picked up the fragile bottle in surprisingly gentle hands, and filled both of the miniature cups with the clear wine that flowed out, and then picked his own glass up and looked at it for a brief moment. Thought long and hard about what to say. Couldn't figure out anything that didn't sound pretentious or overdone. "Do you realize that if you were still alive, you'd be fifty years old?" Lucifer asked smoothly, draining the small cup of sake and reached for another.

Zeke choked on his drink, though whether it was from the strong taste or the Devil's query, he wasn't quite sure. "What?" He was blinking rapidly, trying to clear his eyes and comprehend what Lucifer had just said to him. "What did you just say?"

The Devil smiled and handed Zeke a napkin, and then poured a refill for both of them from the bottle on the table. "I said, it's your birthday. " He raised the glass again, and this time, Ezekiel recognized the gesture as a toast. "Many happy returns of the day, my friend." The last part was softly spoken, rolling off the Devil's tongue easily, and he was surprised to notice that there was a small warmth blooming in his chest as he said it.

He'd been on Earth too long. 

Zeke blinked, and held his own little glass up in return. "Thank you," he said out of habit, then a second later realized that it was actually heartfelt. He really _did_ appreciate the Devil's birthday wishes, sincere or not. "My friend," he added as an afterthought. The Devil as a friend. Yeah, that's something he could come to terms with, especially considering that his friends were few and far between.

Before he could muster up anything else to say, a slender young man appeared at their table, identified himself as their waiter, and launched into a long string of Japanese and English that lost Zeke in a heartbeat. At the end of the spiel, the waiter blinked expectantly, Zeke blinked back, and the waiter turned to Lucifer.

The Devil couldn't help grinning at the completely befuddled expression on Zeke's face, and didn't bother to hide his amusement as he rattled off his own spiel of again-flawless Japanese, while Zeke sat on the other side of the table and stared.

The waiter finished writing down their orders, and with a little bow towards Lucifer he disappeared. Zeke glared at the demon sitting across from him.

The Devil just stared peacefully back until Ezekiel broke. "You just recited the damn Gettysburg address there. You gonna tell me what you ordered?"

"Negihama maki, which are strips of fish rolled with small onions," the Devil explained patiently, surprised with his willingness to detail the menu for Ezekiel. "Spicy tekka maki, which is a spiced tuna roll, sashimi, strips of raw fish with daikon radish strings, and shomei, which are pork dumplings in the house sauce."

Zeke's color grew greener at each thing Lucifer named off. "Is _any_ of that cooked?"

Lucifer barely hid a smirk. "The shomei is steamed, I believe."

The green receded a little. "Good." A pause. "I'm assuming that none of what you ordered has eyes? I don't eat anything that can look back at me." Zeke picked up the little cup full of sake, and drained it quickly. 

Then wished he hadn't, as a sharp burn spread across his mouth, feeling like it was eating his tongue away, even as his throat slightly closed up from the hot burn as it slid down. Eyes watering like tears, his face was reddening from the unexpected strength of the alcohol.

Lucifer was even more amused with Zeke's inability to drink sake, and quietly pushed his water glass closer out of pity for the dying man. Gave a quiet chuckle as Zeke grabbed the glass with both hands and swallowed, and then sighed as the sake was diluted to a bearable level.

"You're trying to kill me," Zeke wheezed out, surprised that nobody had noticed the minor commotion at their table, and glared at Lucifer. 

"No, I'm not. You're already dead. That would put a bit of a crimp in my plans to kill you." He refilled Zeke's sake glass again. "Sip, don't chug. This isn't that watered down beer you're used to drinking. This is the real thing."

Zeke glared, putting the sake down and taking another drink of water first. "You're making me eat raw fish and drink lighter fluid." Only when he was sure that he wasn't going to choke again did he take a sip of the rice wine, and then sighed. "That wasn't so bad."

"Because you sipped." Lucifer sipped from his own cup. "You've got to build up a tolerance to it. Or, be used to drinking something much harsher. Like brimstone."

Zeke paused in mid-sip, then put the cup down slowly as he studied his companion. He'd always made himself such a pain in Zeke's ass that Zeke had never once stopped to think that the ruler of Hell had to have been the most tormented soul among them. 

There was something about the quiet, yet matter-of-fact way that Lucifer had just spoken that made Zeke, for the first time, wonder if the Devil saw visiting him as a way to escape, however briefly, his own torments. "That's right. Brag about your tolerance," Zeke teased softly. While his mind refused to pity the Devil, his perceptions suddenly shifted and re-aligned to let him think of the Devil in a new light. 

Lucifer watched curiously at the play of emotions that flitted through Zeke's eyes. _The eyes are the window to the soul,_ he'd told Ezekiel once, and despite the hollowness that a decade and a half spent in hell had given him, Zeke's eyes were still surprisingly clear and showed his thoughts and his emotions for the world to see. And for the first time in a very long while, the Devil felt oddly privileged to see it. "It's not my fault I'm good at being bad," he said, timing his comment to match the exact moment Zeke drank from his glass.

Zeke choked again, but this time, on nothing more harmful than water. "That's it. No more. No more drinking while you're around." 

The Devil just looked as innocent as he possibly could. "Suit yourself." He leaned back from the table then, as the waiter from before brought a large tray bearing their meal. 

Zeke was silent as plate after plate was unloaded. Each of the dishes were made of the same white ceramic as the sake bottle, and had ornamental paintings on the edge; bright splashes of color that deliberately complimented the colors of the food served on them. Four of the dishes were rectangles, barely bigger than a postcard with just a hint of curve to them, with what he assumed to be fish rolls arranged artfully on them. 

Two of the other plates were larger, what Zeke considered standard sized. One of them had steam and heat still rising from it, and the other had small slices of fish laid out decoratively over the plate. Behind and to the side of the fish was an artistic tangle of white vegetable strings separated from the fish by fresh green leaves, and a green ball of what looked like thick avocado dip. Beside the avocado were thin slices of something vaguely pink and fleshy-looking. 

Lucifer surveyed the dishes in front of him, and asked the waiter something. Zeke caught one word; sawagani. The waiter answered in Japanese again, and Lucifer nodded as he departed. 

"Okay, I'll bite," Zeke said, half-cautiously. "What's sawagani?"

"One of our appetizers," Lucifer answered. "And it's not quite ready yet." Deliberately didn't answer Zeke as he reached for one of the steamed dumplings, dipping it carefully in the tangy sauce before bringing it to his mouth for quick consumption.

Chopsticks he was at least familiar with, and Zeke picked up his pair, and reached for one of the chunks of sashimi. Once he'd speared the fish with relative ease, he nudged it towards the little ball of green avocado dip.

Lucifer nearly dropped his chopsticks in his haste to stop Zeke. "No, Ezekiel. I wouldn't do that if I were you." His hand caught Zeke's wrist, and Zeke hissed softly as the tattoos on his forearms started to burn like acid at the Devil's touch. "That's wasabi, and quite hot." He let go almost instantly after he spoke, half surprised that he'd moved to save Zeke the trouble and half shocked that Ezekiel hadn't jerked away in disgust or ignored him entirely. 

Instead, he took one of his chopsticks and separated out a small bit of the wasabi, placing it one of the mixing dishes to the side. He filled the bowl with soy sauce, stirring the two together until the sauce was only slightly cloudy and the wasabi well mixed in. He pushed the small dish towards the center of the table and motioned Zeke to dip in that instead.

The ingrained habit of mistrusting the Devil warred with his new instinct to trust him. Finally, Zeke reached forward and dipped his fish into the wasabi, bringing the uncooked seafood to his mouth. It didn't smell nearly as strong as he had expected, and as he tried it, the taste wasn't overpowering either. The salty burn of the spice balanced perfectly with the subtle sweetness of the fish. It didn't have the slimy feel he'd expected from raw fish, instead having a surprising firmness as he chewed and swallowed. 

The rest of the meal passed in a fairly companionable silence, their conversation limited to Zeke's questions and complaints about what he was eating and the Devil's answers. As they ate, Zeke realized he was more relaxed than he had been in… probably the whole time he'd been sent back up from hell. He was having… a good time. He didn't stop to examine it, just tucked it away in the back of his mind to think about later. He was having a good time, on his birthday, with the Devil. That had to be a first.

Lucifer was enjoying himself. He kept both their glasses full of sake, having the large bottle replaced as necessary, and their dinner stretched to several hours, during which time Ezekiel smiled more than the Devil could ever remember seeing before. 

Despite his initial misgivings, Zeke decided he liked the sashimi platter, the spicy tuna was too spicy for him, and that he didn't like the scallions that were rolled in with the Negihama yellowtail. He definitely had a soft spot for sake, and he was glad that the Devil seemed pleased with his reaction to the sushi. 

About halfway through their meal, they were interrupted by their waiter bringing the sawagani. 

"They're crabs," Zeke said quietly, through a mouthful of yellowtail. 

Lucifer picked one up with his chopsticks and held it up. "They're lightly tossed with butter, then dropped into a deep fat fryer where they're cooked until dead and crispy--"

"Whoa whoa whoa." Zeke almost put down the crab he'd been about to eat. "You said, cooked until they're dead?"

"Well, yes. They're thrown into the pot still alive, you know. That *is* how they get this lovely shape."

Zeke sighed, and looked down at the crab in his chopstick. It would be rude to put it back, Lucifer had already explained that, and then he glared. "You would like something like that. I'm only eating this, just so you know, because it'd be rude otherwise." He popped the crab into his mouth, and crunched it carefully, as though he wasn't sure what he was going to be crunching. "Tastes like popcorn," he commented through an open mouth.

The Devil just smirked. "Let that be a lesson to you, Ezekiel. Don't knock it until you've tried it."

By the time they'd finished the crabs, and then the green tea ice cream, it was completely dark outside. Lucifer and Ezekiel had both washed their desserts down with a final cup of sake, and Lucifer hadn't said a word as he'd produced the same credit card he'd teased Zeke earlier with, and gave it to their waiter. When he turned back, Zeke was staring at him again.

"How did _you_ get a credit card?" Zeke asked. 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Who said it was mine?" He waited patiently until the waiter brought the credit card back, and waved his hand over it, like a magician waving his magic wand.

"A. L. Morningstar," read the name on the card. 

Zeke rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry I asked. C'mon, let's go."

Lucifer got up and followed Zeke out of the restaurant, but before he did, he left a little black book on the table, and then started walking out after his friend.

The waiter noticed the book on the table, and picked it up. The cover was fine black leather, and the name was embossed on the front of it. "Mister Stone!" he called out, hurrying out the door after the two departing men. "Mister Stone!"

Zeke stopped in mid-sentence as he turned around. "Yeah, that's me?"

The young man stopped a few steps away. "You forgot your book, sir." He held the leather-bound book out to Zeke. "It was at your table."

"I didn't--" But the book had his name on it, Ezekiel Stone, in gold calligraphy on the front. "Thanks. I didn't realize I'd left it." He turned back around to say something to Lucifer, but he was gone. "Figures. Walk home alone. Great." He looked through the book as he passed under the streetlights, and was surprised to see it was a date book. 

He flipped through the pages, and noticed that certain days were marked with certain symbols, but it wasn't until he got to today's entry that he realized what the symbols were. They matched his tattoos, and each one was marked on the date book on the day that he'd sent the soul back to hell.

"Thanks," he said to the empty air, tucking the book into the pocket of his suit jacket as he started the long walk home.

\- = - = - 

He'd thought twice about getting a cab, but every time he thought of it, he remembered the eight bucks in his wallet and the words insufficient funds. So he kept his wallet in his pants and his feet on the asphalt. He half expected the Devil to drive up in a taxi and offer him a ride for a cab fare of exactly $8.64, yet he wasn't too surprised when there was no sign of him.

The quiet walk home provided Zeke with the time to wonder exactly what had gone on tonight. There had been camaraderie, something he'd never had with the Devil before. There had been fun, normal--for them, anyway--conversation, food, drink… a present. The only thing missing had been birthday cake. 

His birthday. How, and why, the Devil had remembered his birthday was a mystery to him, but it surprised him. As he walked he realized this is what the Devil had been concerned that he didn't remember. Truth was, he just didn't care. 

He'd been at this work for three years and four months, that much he knew, and not even the Devil's promise of a second chance at life was keeping him going any longer. The only reason he was still working was because he knew, from experience, how dangerous these escaped souls were. He'd reclaimed almost half in three years, couldn't wait for the other half to be done. 

Then back to his life, where twenty years might have passed, and everything would be different. Where Rosalyn would have moved on to someone else, would have created a new life for herself. He was dead to her anyway, had been dead to her for years. 

Suddenly, the prospect seemed more horrifying than it ever had before, and the horror seemed to help clarify something in his head. He was afraid of being alone. It's why he'd clung to the idea of going back to Rosalyn, then later, to Ashe. It was why he'd never told the Devil to get lost, no matter how much he'd wanted to, and why he tolerated the annoyance of having the Devil around. He sought out solitude, because there was no other soul on this Earth like him, but as long as he had the Devil, he wouldn't be alone.

Zeke blinked as that thought registered in his head. As long as he had the Devil? That… sounded perilously close to something he didn't want to deal with, and instead, rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing tiredly. "I gotta get some sleep," he finally said out loud, and turned the corner to the street his hotel was on. 

Dug his keys out as he was climbing the front steps, rubbed the back of his neck as he cut through the dark lobby and up the rickety stairs to his room. Put his key in the lock only to find it already open, and regretted leaving his gun in the dresser drawer as he nudged the door the rest of the way open with his foot and peeked in. 

"It's about time you got here," the Devil answered from the couch. "I've been waiting half an hour."

Zeke's shoulders relaxed and he sighed deeply, pulling his key out of the door and closing it, then throwing the locks from inside. "So sorry I made you wait." He put his keys on the kitchen table, and then tossed the date book onto the bed. "Thanks, by the way." Knew better than to make a big production of it, and chose just to brush it off, though the thanks were no less heartfelt.

"You're welcome," Lucifer answered, relishing the startled look on Ezekiel's face at that. "What, you think that I don't have proper manners? I'm the Prince of Hell, not some uncouth bastard off the street."

"Right. It's the Hell thing that always gets me confused." Glare as he went to the fridge, found nothing in it but the leftover hamburgers and fries and a bottle of orange juice, and sighed. "You want coffee?"

"No, that's fine." The Devil indulged himself in a grin. "Sorry I had to leave you at the restaurant, but I can't leave things unattended for _too_ long."

Zeke turned one of the kitchen chairs around and straddled it, resting his folded arms on the back of it. "So what was tonight, exactly?" he asked.

Lucifer blinked calmly in return. "A new experience, I hope. Sushi, and good company to mark this milestone." He hoped that answer would satisfy Ezekiel, because it was the only one he could give.

"Nothing else?" Zeke asked carefully, voice carefully modulated to not betray anything.

Lucifer heard the words, heard the toneless voice, but his attention was concentrated on Ezekiel's eyes. He might have been able to control his voice, Lucifer mused, but his thoughts and his emotions were an open book. So many things flew through Ezekiel's eyes, and the Devil meticulously cataloged each one, matching it to something he'd felt in his own soul, what there was left of it. "Was there anything else you wanted it to be?" he finally asked, throwing the answer back to Ezekiel.

"I don't know," was Zeke's quiet answer. "I know that I had a really good time tonight, which is strange, to say the least. I know that I'm thinking you might not be the biggest pain in the ass after all, and I know that I'm thinking, and I don't know why, that it actually might not be too bad having you for a real friend." He shrugged after that. "Other than that? I have no idea." He looked down at the floor for a minute, and then back up at the Devil. "Were you flirting with me tonight?"

"Would you like it if I had?" 

"Would you _stop_ that?" Zeke sighed. "Stop answering me with questions and just give me a straight answer."

Lucifer got up from the couch, and took one step across the cramped room to stand in front of Ezekiel's chair. Zeke was looking up at him, and in one quick motion, he pinned Zeke's hands to the back of the chair with his own and kissed him. 

Even though the kiss seemed to come from nowhere, a part of Zeke had expected it. Even wanted it, his eyes closing in acceptance. Without protest, he opened under the hard kiss that was being bestowed on him. His mouth was full of the acidic bite of sulfur and brimstone from the Devil's tongue, and the pungent taste spread as Lucifer deepened the kiss. His skin writhed from the light contact of hands to hands, then ceased abruptly as Lucifer let go of his hands to clasp his face. At the unfamiliar touch, the small hairs on the back of Zeke's neck stood up, causing his scalp to tingle with a little frisson of near-electric shock.

Even though they were separated by the chair back, Zeke was starting to sweat from the heat of Lucifer's body. His hands were free, and they rose tentatively to grip the Devil's forearms. Zeke gave a soft cry as he touched Lucifer, his tattoos burning in protest. The cry was muffled by the kiss, licked away by the thrusts of Lucifer's tongue in his mouth. Another moment, then suddenly there was a wash of cool air across his body at the same instant the pressure against his mouth disappeared, and when he opened his eyes, he was alone in the dingy apartment.

\- = - = - 

Zeke woke up the next morning with sunlight hitting him full in the face. He grunted as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and licking his lips. His mouth had gone dry during the night, and he longed for coffee. He stretched his arms over his head as he sat there, and looked over to the dinky dresser by the bed. The black leather date book was still sitting there, the gold lettering glinting in the morning sunlight. He reached out to pick it up, and his thumb stroked over the embossing. 

As he moved it, a piece of newspaper that had been tucked into the book fluttered to the floor. "What's this?" he asked the empty room, and when he didn't get a response, he picked the clipping up and looked at it. The headline was mostly cut off, but the story pertained to two rather gruesome homicides in the business district. The corpses had been ritually mutilated, and their eyes gouged out.

He flipped the article over, and there was an advertisement for the sushi restaurant they'd gone to last night.

With a deep sigh and the faint taste of brimstone lingering on his tongue, Zeke got up from the little bed and got dressed in his regular clothes, making sure his gun was still in the holster and picking up his badge. His wallet was full of cash again, and he folded up the clipping and tucked it in there behind the money. He had a job to do, and a new outlook. He'd gotten a good night's sleep, and he'd made a new friend. Suddenly, things didn't seem quite so grim.


End file.
